


Fun With Floss

by Chris_Stork



Category: Hellsing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 20:57:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chris_Stork/pseuds/Chris_Stork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short stories featuring Walter</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fun With Floss

Disclaimer: Hellsing and all other associated copyrights owned by Kouta Hirano, Genon, et al. Should any one of these parties wish it, I will remove this story at once. 

 

Walter looked down at his hands.

He made excuses in years past. He was experienced, he was distinguished, he was venerable. He used so many words to describe himself. Now the thin aged truth cut into his hands was before him.

_I'm old._

It was the lastest shaking admission of the day. So long he believed he'd lived forever. Glory everyday and all night. Terrible battles to win and the thrill and joy that came with it. Victory would his always, it would never change.

Arthur died and the last illusion went with him. Tomorrow Arthur last domain would be a pine box and two metres of earth. Despondent he went to his favorite restaurant. He loved this place in his youth. Great food, his beloved music and the same thing all the time. Plenty to talk to, people his own age, a few younger and old men to silently mock and feel sorry for. The old-old men never stayed long, but there was always new-old men to replace them.

He was one of the new-old men now. He wouldn't stay a new-old man long and sooner or later someone would replace him.

“Sir,” when had he become sir? “There's a phone call for you.” He smiled and nodded. Laurie had been the shop's owner's granddaughter. He'd been an old-old man in the place over a decade ago. There been a mourning over him and life went on with a few more grey doubts. He stood up and walked to where the phone was and hadn't moved in twenty years. Some drunk had smashed the last one and he'd returned the favor.

He expected old friends to wish condolences, acquaintances to say they were terribly sorry, he expected Arthur to call from beyond the grave sooner than who he got.

“Hello, Walter.” A long hidden nightmare come back to haunt everyone.

“Alucard.” How did he get out? Is he out? Am I losing my mind?

“How are you this fine, bleak day? I am informed a terrible event has befallen Hellsing. My … condolences.” The apathy of his words barely stirred the phones lines as it dripped into Walter's ear. He said nothing, for fear sanity had passed before him. Walter could hear a voice behind it.

“There is another matter... Young Integra wishes to speak with you. She did not know the number.” A rustle against glove and the receiver was passed to Integra.

“Walter? Uncle- I've been shot. Where's the medical kit?” There was pain, but she pushed it away. Walter struggled to keep up. The long dead returning, Integra shot. Numbly he tried to place where the kits were.

“A kit is in the main hallway next to the basement stairs.” He remembered putting it there after an incident with a maid and the darkness. He knew where all the little odds and ends were around the Manor. He was the only one that did now.

_I'm in charge now. I'm the old man. Integra's glory days are just starting. Until she gets old too and someone replaces her._


End file.
